Chapter 8: Chapter 8: Coos and Quiet Voices

“I have news,” Lord Darnesh said around a bite of his meal. There wasn’t much implied from his tone, but the words arrested the family’s attention.

Their father wasn’t a man of many emotions unlike their mother, and he rarely addressed the family as a whole. Whenever he had information to give, he passed it on as though having a normal conversation. Who he passed it on to rarely ever mattered. Still, it was mostly passed on to Jonathan, considering they spoke the most in the house. To address the entire family at dinner brought a certain level of gravity to whatever he was going to say.

“There’s no need for worry,” he continued sensing their trepidation. “It’s merely a simple update. Last minute, though it is, it is a decision made for the sake of the family and its betterment.”

Seth twirled his meal lazily with a spoon. Whenever his father said something was for the betterment of the family, what he actually meant was he’d made a decision that would neither be questioned nor overturned. Seth didn’t mind. Decisions for the betterment of the house were laws that rarely had any real impact on him.

“Quiet, Derek,” their father said absently when the boy opened his mouth. “This is not about you.”

Seth chuckled at the dismissal. The last decision for the family’s betterment had involved his brother’s philandering escapades. It was only fair the boy feared this would be about him.

Derek’s relief was expressed in an exaggerated sigh.

But when they’re father spoke again, Seth sat up straighter.

“It regards Seth.”

Seth’s attention left the food, not that it had been on it to begin with. A decision for the family’s betterment concerning him had never happened in the family’s history.

No, Seth realized a moment after. It had happened once, when he’d been too young to really understand. Most of the memory he had of it were given to him in the form of stories garnered from his father and mother, usually in coos and quiet voices.

According to his parents it had happened when he was five and they’d lived elsewhere. It was during a time when his father had not sworn allegiance to the Baron and they’d lived in a different home, during the last world crack.

Seth’s headaches and dead arm had always been a part of his memory, like a mother is to a child. He’d lived his life surrounded by them in an uneven acceptance; as one accepts a hurricane is no place for a home, yet accepts that the day would come when their home would have to face one. What exactly happened during the crack remained a mystery, but the little detail they knew claimed he’d been too close to it when it happened.

When their father’s news continued, it was his mother that spoke, her soprano voice, a quiet sing song tone, sailing across the table. “Seth will be attending the academy earlier than usual.”

Her statement was answered with a noisy clatter from Jeremy as silver utensils hit a ceramic plate.

Seth turned to his younger brother and found the boy sporting a wide grin.

“Does that mean he’ll become a souled early?” Jeremy asked.

Seth placed his cutlery on the table quietly. “You’re under the misguided impression that I still won’t punish you when you misbehave.”

Jeremy stuck his tongue out at him and Seth took his table knife in his good hand.

“That’s quite enough from the both of you,” their mother said blandly. She could’ve been commenting on an uninteresting color and wouldn’t have sounded any different.

“And no,” Jonathan added. “Seth will not be getting a soul fragment, not until he’s sixteen, for obvious reasons.”

“And…”

“Yes,” Derek cut Jeremy off, “he will continue to beat you for the next three years each time you misbehave.”

“No, he won’t,” their mother objected.

Jonathan turned an easy gaze to her. “I don’t think I’m in opposition to Derek, though, mother. Someone needs to punish Jeremy anytime he misbehaves.”

“And you think that should be Seth?”

Jonathan shrugged. “No one else can. I would kill him with a glare.” He gestured to Derek with a table knife, “Derek could well break his back with a single stroke,” then at her, “you won’t dare to raise your voice at him even if he killed a person, and let’s not even bring up father. I think its best we continue to let Seth do what he’s been doing.”

“That’s no way for siblings to live now, is it?” Lady Darnesh objected.

Derek chuckled at this. “I don’t remember you doing much to stop me when I used to beat Seth back then.”

“You didn’t beat him, you both fought.”

Jonathan sighed. “Doesn’t make it any better, mother.”

Through it all Seth watched Jeremy’s eyes grow wider with shock. His father, however, said nothing, simply watching his sons go back and forth with his wife.

“Regardless,” Jonathan stated, “I will not interfere should I find Jeremy being punished.”

“Might I remind you, Jonny,” their mother said almost immediately, her voice quiet yet loud, like a crowd’s whisper, “that while you might be gold, you’ve merely stepped upon the threshold of its authority, and I am still your mother. And while you are respected as a gold, you’re treading the line of disrespect towards your mother.”

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Jonathan placed his cutlery on the table very gently. Free from contact with anything metal, he afforded his mother his complete attention. His lips parted but it was their father who spoke.

“That’s quite enough from all of you.”

The tension building broke and only then did Seth realize there had been one to begin with. There was a certain mix of dread and excitement in him at the thought of his mother and brother getting into a disagreement. Amongst soul mages most disagreements usually led to an exchange of blows. And while he wasn’t certain if he wanted to see Jonathan and their mother go at it, he was very certain he wanted to witness two soul mages of gold rank exchange blows—preferably from a safe distance. Jonathan had once told him he would be a casualty should such a thing happen, but he didn’t care.

“Seth.”

Seth turned to his father at being addressed directly. “Yes, father.”

“How’s your head?”

The same as always, he thought, feeling the steady throb at the back of it. Luckily, it was content to remain there; to remain tolerable.

“It’s alright,” he answered.

“Will you be able to cope in the academy?” his father asked. “They have a music room where you can play the instruments. However, you won’t be permitted to use it till you’re a full student.”

Seth frowned at this. “A full student?” he asked, puzzled.

Lord Darnesh nodded. “While you will be resuming two years early, you will not be resuming as a student. I have merely found someone who claims a study of rune magic could give you the focus you need to control your headaches. He says it might help you grow more accustomed to reia and would be of great help when you gain your first fragment. Which we intend on making a black one.”

“And why are we going out of our way to get a black fragment for him?” Derek asked, his voice argumentative.

“Do you have a terrible headache and an arm that has issues?” Jonathan asked.

Derek’s answer was in a concealed mumble of no coherence.

“I thought so.”

Seth said nothing to all this. His mind crawled to his room, into the hole he’d made in the wall just beneath his bed. There an orb the size of his father’s hand rested, transparent, like glass. He was fairly certain it was a kind of fragment and he had every intention of finding a way to absorb it first.

“So I am to cope without music for two years?” he asked, speaking finally.

His father’s answer was simple. “Yes.”

“You’ll still have the holidays,” his mother offered, as if pointing out a silver lining.

Seth opened his mouth to object, then closed it. He repeated the action twice more, yet nothing came out. His brain found itself unable to string together a coherent set of sentences to form an argument, logical or not. His lexicon failed him quite thoroughly. Knowing no objection would stand the test of his father, he sighed quietly and nodded.

For his sake, his father had sworn allegiance to a Baron when he’d wanted no part in politics of any kind.

All this new decision meant was he’d start the academy earlier than his brothers had, and the only reason his father had thought it a big deal was because there would be no music to calm his headaches. He hadn’t corrected his lie in the past few years and he wouldn’t now.

“I don’t see what the big deal is,” Seth said. “I’ll do what I can for the headaches and see what happens.”

“Good.” Lord Darnessh returned to his meal. Idly, as if waving a nonchalant fly, he added: “You leave tomorrow. Instructor Macbeth will come for you then.”

Jonathan’s head shot up from his food. Derek sighed, abandoning his cutlery to his plate noisily as if tired of a particularly stupid joke. Their mother was unfazed, and Jeremy beamed with so much joy he could’ve painted the entire house if the emotion was a color. Seth’s mind ran straight to his room.

How, he thought, in the name of the Baron, am I going to hide it in my pack.

 

 

 

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